Chapter Six: Abba Baba

"Next chapter. A young boy is born to. Your everyday working class American family, polish decent. He has two older half siblings, and a sister, who would pass later in life too early. Those two were inseparable. The boy with blonde hair and blue eyes just like his sister someone refer to them as indigo children but when he was born he only answered to one name, Abba Baba. That is the only name he would be called and that is what he called himself as he spoke in the third person. It was a loving family they always had dogs around sometimes too many dogs but this boy when he was born was born into this world not as the name given not as the body taken but as this being and it took a long time and a long journey and this boy's life of forgetting who he really was who he came in this world to be what his journey and mission would be in this world but for now he's just a boy he's a young little lad living life playing enjoying Tonka trucks in the backyard GI Joe teenage mutant Ninja turtles all the things that your average everyday American boy would be cuz as he becomes more of who he is he forgets who he really is and this chapter this story is all just about a boy who thought his name was Abba Baba but who really knows who he really is a baba."

Chapter Six: Abba Baba

He came into the world on a Wednesday morning in late summer, born to a Polish-American family tucked between the factories and foothills of small-town Pennsylvania. There wasn’t much remarkable about the delivery, no signs in the sky or omens in the air—unless you counted the fact that the boy, blonde and blue-eyed, refused to answer to the name on the birth certificate. Not even a cry when they called it. But when his mother whispered “Abba Baba,” he turned and smiled.

That was the name he claimed as his own, in sing-song baby talk at first, then later in a bold, declarative third person:
“Abba Baba wants cereal.”
“Abba Baba is not tired.”
“Abba Baba says no.”

His parents played along. What else could they do? The name stuck like peanut butter on bread. Everyone else called him that too, and in time, it stopped being strange. Just another story neighbors told with half-shrugs and warm chuckles: “That’s Abba Baba—kid’s got a mind of his own.”

He was the youngest of four. Two older half-brothers with buzz cuts and cassette collections. And then there was her—his sister. Same flaxen hair. Same sea-glass eyes. They were twin souls, though born years apart. Wherever one went, the other followed. When she laughed, he laughed louder. When she cried, his heart cracked clean through.

They’d climb the crabapple tree in the backyard together and build forts from busted pallets and damp cardboard. GI Joe's missions became secret operations against garden gnomes. Ninja Turtles patrolled the mulch piles. Tonka trucks hauled imaginary payloads across the sandbox, where Abba Baba declared himself “King of Dirtland.”

Their house always had dogs. At one point five. Maybe six. Mutts with names like Duke, Baby, and Lenny. Some came, some went. But there was always fur on the couch and a tennis ball underfoot. And Abba Baba? He never met a dog he didn’t talk to like it was a wise old man. Maybe they were. Maybe he was too, in a way.

Because something else lived in that boy—a brightness that wasn’t just childhood wonder. Something ancient, flickering behind the innocent nonsense and the scraped knees. Some would call him an Indigo Child. Others would say he was just sensitive, dreamy, weird. He never really fit into any box, but then again, he never tried.

As he grew, so did the forgetting. He learned to spell his given name, sit still in class, say "yes ma’am" and "no sir." But deep down, in dreams and quiet corners, he still whispered to himself:
“Abba Baba is still here.”

This chapter ends with dirt under his fingernails and a popsicle stain on his t-shirt. He doesn’t yet know what the world will ask of him. He doesn’t yet remember the mission he chose before coming here. For now, he’s just a boy. A good boy. A wild boy. A magical boy named Abba Baba.